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Listless and lost, I am left powerless to old age and a generation that burdens my existence.
Penmanship: A Series
My childhood remembers you, I do not. Or atleast I try not to. I love the idea of physically scribing words overtop of images, now a days everything is typed on a computer. Penmanship is so intimate and I write with my eyes. Here's a new series of poetry written overtop of provocative images I ripped... Continue Reading →
722: Old Words from Passed Years
"Daddy passed away on November 2nd. I thought I was all right, but this week I haven't gone to school. Next week will be better."
Gallery: An Excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
Gallery These images cut and cradled, From points of the past, Betray the grace of Time. Underneath each photograph the poet Writes And remembers The beautiful people who took his breath away. Black and white, Sometimes in colour, His messy hand makes the words hard to read. There is something so intimate about penmanship, The... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
I HAVE INTERNET. I have since Monday, but I'm making a post tonight. I think next week I'll start from the beginning; Before my dad died, high school, friends and all. This originally began as an exercise for me, simply to get feedback on the writing, but I've received such amazing responses that I think... Continue Reading →
Oliver: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
Oliver My first reaction when my mom told me she had a surprise was that she was sending me off to be married. I don’t know why that’s what I thought, but it was. While I sat in the car with her and Richie all I could imagine was meeting a teenage boy who would... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
Before my family moved up north my cat, Thorn ran away. I hate that - ran away- the sound it makes. He needed some fresh air and he went out as he always did with the expectation to come back to his family. Only to find the house empty, torn apart and his family no... Continue Reading →
Cemetery: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
CemeteryWe leave my older brother as he shovels the dirt atop my father’s coffin.He intended to bury him himself.My older brother, Kevin, had to take the shovel from him.In the car I am numb again.So many words bounce off the walls of my skull.People don’t think I will survive,I know because of the amount of... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
Today's excerpt is a little different. A little sadder than most.I hope you like it.l/r
Coins: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
CoinsI can’t tell you the amount of coinsMy father found when he was alive.Pennies,Nickels,Dimes.All aligned waiting for him,To stop and pick up.He’d catch a glimpse of their silvery,Faces,Laying flat and unimportant on the sidewalk.When he’d pick them up I’d smileIn amazement that he could spot so manyOf these neglected, inconspicuous currency;While others walk so proudly... Continue Reading →
Famous Last Words 